Second Chances
by Serena Coyote
Summary: This is a Commodore Norrington fic, even though it centers around an OC. Read it and tell me what you think, please be constructive. Chapter 4 is now up!
1. My flight to Port Royale

**Disclaimer:**   I do not own "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl."  That excellent movie belongs to Disney.  I am merely borrowing a few characters for a little adventure.  I've asked the characters and they do not mind.  I only own Irene Montague/Iron Magdalena Jericho and the Bloodless Band of Pirates.  Oh, and the plot.  I own the plot.     

**Author's Note:  **Irene is my original character; she is NOT a Mary Sue, which will be made quite obvious in this chapter.  Her name is pronounced EYE (as in your eye)-RE (as in rewrite)-KNEE (self-explanatory).  Okay, my flame policy is the same, leave your email address so in case I want to correct you or something I can.  If you do not like what I write, then please tell me what you didn't like.  But please do not make it a pure flame.  I infinitely prefer constructive criticism to flames, so please make your 'angry' review constructive and I'll try to improve what you do not agree with.

**Second Chances**

This is not a story centered around cursed pirates or bloodlust or even love.  This is a story centered around the greatest pirate hunter and the greatest she-pirate in the Spanish Main.  I should know, as I am the latter of the two.  Many a man cower in fear when they hear my name.  I, the destroyer of manhood, the Sea Witch herself, Iron Maggie Jericho of the Caribbean.  I am the she-pirate Iron Maggie Jericho and I live for adventure and plunder.  I single-handedly brought the Bloodless Band of Pirates to their knees when I was just eighteen years old with nothing but my cutlass.  I fired the cannon that sunk the _H.M.S. Queen Anne_.  I battled with Captain Barbossa of the Black Pearl when that ship attacked my captain's ship.  I put fear into the hearts of Royal Navy officers who have the misfortune to come across my path.  I lead the raids on Nassau that would go down as the most lucrative pirate plunders in history and I am in serious trouble.

I've spent many a night in prisons from Cuba to the Bahamas, but never before have I been incarcerated by the pirate hunter Commodore Norrington in Fort Charles.  If this were any other fort and the Commodore any other man, I could escape.  I know the flaws of iron barred cells and I know the secrets of lock picking and the dimwitted guards watching me would be no challenge to the great Iron Maggie to over power.  But, I also know that my chances of escape are better at the gallows then here in the quiet deep of the Fort Charles prison.  

Why come to Port Royale you ask?  My answer is most interesting, I assure you.  Port Royale was not my intended destination, but one cannot change a sea storm's direction.  Tortuga is my home and anchorage.  The ship I serve on, the _Rose of Tortuga, makes berth in that criminal haven for outlaws, whores, and pirates.  But what most people do not realize is that the most brilliant nautical brains reside in Tortuga.  And one such brain belongs to our dear onboard doctor, Mr. Brown, who has an identical brother in Port Royale in the blacksmith trade.  Mr. Brown is somewhat of a radical in that he is absolutely obsessed with flying.  He is also at his best when drunk, where he usually converses in Spanish, French, and Latin and gets most of his revolutionary ideas for his flying contraptions.  Well, I was in a more respectable pub one evening with Mr. Brown and he was showing me his latest idea.  _

It was sheer brilliance, a rectangular sail with four ropes tied at the corners connecting to a small square of wood.  It was what he called a "personal sail."  His sail was meant to support one person as they sailed through the air, propelled by the winds.  Or at least that is what I understood, as I do not speak French well.  I was mesmerized by his idea and I found myself believing that such a contraption could actually work.  It turns out that he had built a prototype and was just waiting for volunteer to test it.  Of course I fell for his charm and agreed to 'fly' his contraption around the harbor when the winds were right.  

As fate would have it, our captain had us set sail for an island just south of Port Royale that evening.  Mr. Brown stowed his invention in the hold below deck, still determined to see me fly.  As we were making our way back to Tortuga a sudden storm came upon us out of nowhere.  It wasn't the worst storm I'd weathered, but it was strong and mighty angry.  So as we were coming in sight of Port Royale Mr. Brown came on deck dragging his huge contraption with a strange smile on his face.  He told me to take the contraption and climb to the top of the Crow's Nest and spread it out and then jump off into the winds of the storm.  Now, normally I would have objected to this madness and say something to the effect that I was not suicidal, but I loved that old man and could not deny him his wish.  So I drug that heavy sail, ropes, and wood up the rigging to the Crow's Nest where I sorted it out as best I could in the rain and wind.  

There is something you need to know about Mr. Brown's contraptions that is very important.  Every single one has worked wonderfully well except for one minor mistake.  That mistake being that Mr. Brown invents and builds while in a drunken state.  He always forgets something that doesn't appear obvious until the contraption is already in use and then it becomes crystal clear as to what he forgot.

I stood there, on top of the Crow's Nest, and stared out at the storm.  I was having serious regrets right then.  If this didn't work, I would die, but if I didn't leave the ship, I still might die as it became very evident to me that the ship was indeed breaking up.  I cast my doubts into the storm and jumped off of the Nest into a strong gust of wind.  The sail spread out behind me and then drifted on top of me.  I was tied to the piece of wood that was a hard seat.  The wind jerked the sail which in turn jerked me here and there.  About a minute or two into this I noticed what Mr. Brown neglected to add.  I had no way of navigating this "personal sail."   

I was scared now more than ever before.  The stormy winds were carrying me toward land with incredible force.  I was also getting closer to the huge waves of the ocean in the harbor, so in an act of desperation I pulled hard on the back ropes to bring the back end of the sail down.  The effect was not as smooth as I had hoped, but it did work.  I moved upward away from the ocean.  I was relaxing a little as I neared land, but then I realized that I had no idea of how to land myself when suddenly a strong gust hit me in the back.  I grabbed all four ropes and pulled them down hard.  But it was already too late.  The sudden gust of wind had hurled me toward land too fast.  The tree line was coming closer with every second as I pulled on the ropes to steady myself.  I remember hitting a palm tree really hard and seeing my sail caught in a neighboring palm.  

The bright Caribbean sun and the annoying caws of seagulls woke me the next morning.  I was surprised to see that I was still tangled in the palm tree.  I was able to wiggle free of my tree, but my sail was still caught the taller tree to my right.  In all of my wiggling I fell from my tree and swung wildly to the tall palm on my right.  I threw my legs out in front of me in hopes of blocking the tree trunk from damaging me too severely.  It worked, sort of.  I bounced from the trunk and began to swing again, hitting that blasted trunk every time.  I openly cursed every tree I saw and kicked the tree that held my sail every opportunity that I got.  I never want to be on such intimate terms with a tree again!

You can imagine that all of my cursing and kicking wasn't exactly helping my predicament.  I tried to calm myself by telling myself that I had survived the storm, the flight (yes!  I had flown into Port Royale), and the landing.  But then I would answer my reassurances with the fact that I was stuck in a palm tree that would not relinquish its grip on me!

After an hour of bickering with myself, I noticed that I still had my trusty dagger on me.  I always kept the dagger I rightfully stole from my father's possessions strapped to my lower leg, concealed by my right boot.  I could feel the scabbard and the hilt of my dagger against my skin.  I scolded myself (rather loudly) for not thinking to cut myself free from the palm.  I unsheathed the dagger and began to cut the ropes that imprisoned me.  It didn't take me long to see the error of my thinking.  I was caught in a high tree and the fall was going to be hard.  I didn't really care, I just wanted to be free from my green captor.  So I sliced the remaining ropes, sheathed my dagger and cringed as I fell to the sandy ground with a soft bang.  

I keeled over onto my side as the pain of everything hit me head on.  My legs ached, my back hurt, my arms were sore, and my bum just down right throbbed!  I then laid down on the sand and spread myself out.  I stretched my tired and achy muscles and some of the pain receded, but most of the pain remained.  

The real disappointment came to me when I searched the horizon and didn't see my ship.  It was gone!  I swore out loud again and kicked some sand up with my foot, which of course got into my eyes causing me to swear again and again.  I was just on the other side of Port Royale, maybe half a day's walk.  I swore again when I figured out where I was and how far I had to walk!

I would have enjoyed the walk to Port Royale if I hadn't been in so much pain.  And I would have made it into Port faster if I didn't stop and rest at every large rock or fallen tree.  

I also would have made better time if I hadn't attempted to bathe in small creek that I stumbled onto.  But if you had been there, you would have deemed it necessary.  I needed to bathe.  I was dirty, salty, had sand positively everywhere, and I wreaked!  I smelled worse than decaying flesh under a hot sun.  I could not stand my stench, it made pigs smell like fresh flowers.

Pirates aren't exactly a clean lot.  We vary rarely bathe, practically never.  And when we do bathe, it consists of having a lad tie a rope around your waist and tossing you over the side of the ship and dunking you repeatedly into the ocean while you causally scrub yourself.  This isn't effective when one wants to be really clean.  But the good thing about pirates is that everyone smells bad.  After a month or two, the smell is barely noticeable. If you are a woman this pungent aroma is very effective at masking other undesirable odors that occur every month.  

My bath attempt was really futile, as it did not get rid of my body odor.  So, I decided it might be best if I entered Port Royale through one of the poorer sides.  And that is just what I did.  The beggars and pickpockets all smell like rotting flesh, so I did not stand out too much.

I found a small Inn with a rough-looking old hag managing it.  The Inn was not exactly welcoming, but I wasn't looking for a welcome.  I inquired after the cost of one room for a night and the hag merely gazed at me.  So I moved ever-so-closer to her, hoping she might get a whiff of me which she must of, as she said "four shillings and for a shilling extra you can take a warm bath."  I gave the old gray hag my coin purse of six shillings and she showed me to my room where I could take a warm bath.

I have yet to take such an uncomfortable bath.  It turns out that the hag was the owner and maid of this small Inn, so she had to assist me with my bath.  The water was tolerably warm and every few minutes she would come in with a bucket of hot water.  The hag was determined that I smell good when I left the bathtub, so she would add different herbs, oils, and perfumes to my bath water.  I came out smelling like an apothecary's shop, but that smell was decidedly better than my previous smell.  I detested the fact that the hag had to see me naked.  She made little comments about my body when she thought I could not hear.  She said that my complexion was odd (which it is as I am naturally pale, but after the years of continual sunburns, I've achieved a dark tan), my hair lacked luster (what can I say, life at sea takes a lot out of you), I wasn't thin enough (I'm healthy!), and that my facial features weren't remarkable (well, I would hate to have men love me for my physical features instead of my intellect).

It turns out that I was similar in shape to one of her former maids; I got the impression there had been several.  She burnt my clothes while I was distracted with my bath, and placed the maid's clothing on my bed.  I loathe dresses with the fabric of my being!  And here she expected me to be pleased with three simple dresses she'd provided me.  I thanked her for her generosity as she left me in my small room.  The room was the size of a closet with a small bed in the center of it.  I had a niggling feeling that this room had once belonged to one of her former maids.

Aside from providing me with clean clothes, the hag also provided me with food.  My apparent hunger had not been so apparent while I was tramping through the jungle.  The food wasn't much and it didn't taste good, but it was nourishment and I took it greedily.  After being clothed and fed I retreated to my room for what the hag thought was for some much needed rest.  I had something else in mind.

I waited patiently beside my closed door listening for the hag to go to bed.  I could hear her footsteps and then a door open and close.  She was in her room, now I just had to wait awhile longer to make sure she was sound asleep.  It didn't take as long as I remember thinking it was going to take.  Ten or so minutes later, a definite loud snoring erupted from somewhere towards her room.  She was deep asleep.  This was the time I had been waiting for.

I quietly opened my door and slowly crept down the hall to the main room where I had first seen the hag.  I made my way to the fireplace on the opposite wall and looked into the burning embers.  There were still pieces of what had once been my clothes, but nothing else.  I looked beside the fireplace and saw what remained of my personal effects: my boots, sword belt, and sheathed dagger.  I gathered my effects into my arms and made my way back to my room as quietly as I could.  But I did not stay in my room, I came back to that main room to look for a bag of some kind.  I did not have anything that I could carry my effects in, as I did not want to draw any unwanted attention to myself while in Port.  I found what I was looking for on a coat rack beside the main door.  I removed the brown leather drawstring bag from its hook and returned to my room.  I placed my boots and sword belt into the bag and strapped my dagger around my right leg, where it belonged. 

I did not sleep that night.  I had too many thoughts circling around in my head.  Where was the _Rose_?  Why hadn't I encountered any crewmembers from the ship?  Had I just imagined that the _Rose had been breaking up amongst the rocks?  I left my room some time before daybreak so that the hag would not catch me with the leather bag.  I was going to take back my shillings, but decided not to because of the hag's uncharacteristically kind generosity to me._

So, I, Iron Maggie left the safety of the Inn and began to wander around lost through the streets of Port Royale.


	2. Iron Maggie, House Maid?

Second Chances~ Iron Maggie, House Maid?

I wandered aimlessly, but not without purpose, through the alleys and streets of Port Royale.  I was without ship and crew; deserted in the heart of the pirate-hunting campaign in the Spanish Main.  My chances of getting away from this Port were very slim as I did not have money to purchase passage off.  I wanted to be back in Tortuga with my crew and the _Rose.  But, as fate had her way, I was stranded in this Port with no way of escape._

I was seeking to change my financial situation while walking amongst the merchants and traders.  I feigned interest in what the merchants were selling; I was really looking for a proper candidate to rob.  And I found him, a young man of at least twenty years of age wearing halfway decent clothes, stealing from a food vendor.  This was the man that I would steal from as I saw no harm in stealing from thieves.  

I gracefully walked up behind him and inquired after the weather (it was, after all, a beautiful day).  He took an interest in me too, as I looked like someone _he _could steal from.  I could see it in his eyes; I was to be his next theft victim.  I played his game as he led me away from the crowd that had assembled in front of the food vendors.   I had to be careful picking his pockets as there were infantrymen and officers everywhere.

He led me over to an alley and I positioned myself against the nearest wall so his back was to the crowd and I was concealed from any unwanted attention.  I lifted my right leg to my hand and unsheathed my dagger and hid the blade in the folds of my dress.  He was babbling about the weather when I edged the tip of my dagger into his lower regions.  He let out a startled gasp when he looked down to see the shining blade so close to his unmentionables.  

"You have chosen the wrong lady to steal from sir." I said to him.

"Evidently so," he said.  "What does milady want from a humble thief?"

"Common civility never ceases to amaze me," said I.  "I want your coin purse sir, and any other purses you've stolen."

"And what would milady do with my property?" he asked.

We had been so focused on stealing from each other that neither of us noticed the tall shadow venture toward us.  We, two thieves trying to silently unman each other, did not notice the tall, thin man standing before us until said stranger cleared his throat.  I pity the thief that was standing inches from my blade, because when the stranger cleared his throat, the thief was so startled that he jumped forward-into my blade.

The thief let out a soft cry as his unmentionables were pricked by the sharp tip of my dagger.  I was fighting a fit of the giggles when this occurred.  The tall stranger barely noticed the thief's jump or cry; he merely cleared his throat again.  My attention was drawn away from the thief before me to the man standing in front of us.

I almost gasped aloud.  This new man standing in front of me was tall, dark, handsome, dashing, and I could sense his charisma from where I stood.  He was beautiful, and he wasn't even smiling!  He wore well-tailored clothes.  His trousers were black with gold trim and he was wearing a tri-cornered hat over his powdered wig.  But he wasn't wearing an overcoat, which was a relief to me.  This handsome stranger was an officer, but not an incredibly high-ranking officer.  I was so taken with his appearances that I had to make sure that I wasn't staring or drooling openly.  It took me a few seconds to realize that he was speaking in my direction.

"Is everything all right milady?" he asked.

"Nay, sir," I said.  "this thief has stolen my coin purse."

I was being bold and counting on the fact that this thief had previous unpleasant run ins with the law.  My hopes were reassured when the thief remained quiet and still.

"Thief, return this lady's coin purse immediately." Commanded the stranger.

"My apologies milady." Said the thief as he handed over his very full coin purse to me.  

I quickly moved my dagger behind my back, being careful to keep it hid in the folds of my dress.  I took the coin purse in my left hand and graciously thanked the stranger for his help.  He then took the thief by the arm and called over two nearby officers to take the thief to the stocks.  I, in good nature, could not let the thief suffer for my crime.  Believe it or not but there is some honor left amongst thieves, just not pirates.

"Wait, sir," I called to the stranger as he walked away.  "I do not wish to press charges against this young man."

"I am sorry milady, but that is not for you to decide," said the stranger.  "He has committed a crime and must be punished accordingly."

"I am not hurt, he has returned my property," said I.  "And surely being caught mid-theft is enough of a punishment for such a young thief."

"If he is not properly punished, then he will continue to commit these crimes."  Said the stranger, who I now definitely recognized to be an officer.

"Then may I choose his punishment?"  said I.  "I am after all the victim here."

"What would milady wish for this petty criminal to suffer as punishment?" asked the officer.

"I wish for this young man to be given another chance in such a civilized society, sir." Said I.

"And how do you propose this be done?" inquired the officer.

"If I am not mistaken, sir, this young man is of proper age to enlist in the infantry." Said I. 

"You wish for him to become an enlisted member of the infantry?" asked the officer.

"Yes I do, sir." Said I.

"Very well, milady." Said the officer.  "This thief shall be reformed in the infantry, as punishment for his crime."

"Thank you sir." Said I.

I glanced over to the thief being held between two infantrymen.  He smiled softly to me; a thank you of sorts.  No one should ever have to steal to make a living, especially at such a young age.  I was giving this young man another chance at life.  He could be successful in the infantry and leave his thievery in the past.

I watched as the thief walked away with the two infantrymen in the direction of the fort.  Part of me wished that I could just walk away from piracy, but the sweet trade is not so easily given up.  

I now had a conundrum in my hands.  I still had the dagger in my hand behind my back and I needed to sheath it.  But the officer had not left with the infantrymen.  He just stood there, watching me as if another thief might try to rob me.  It wasn't completely uncommon for a woman to carry a dagger, but the fact that I had it out would draw attention to me in an unkindly light.  

I unslung the brown leather bag that had been helping to conceal the dagger against my back with my left arm and placed my coin purse in it.  I then made some comment that my right boot was feeling loose and moved my right leg away from the officer.  I lifted my skirt just enough to reveal my boot, and just as I had hoped, the officer averted his gaze.  _What a gentleman!_  I didn't waste time and quickly sheathed my dagger and lowered my skirt.  I then stood and placed the brown leather bag back around my back.  I have to admit that right then I felt like I was treading on thin ice.  At any moment I could have made an error and been arrested by that officer.  But there was something about that officer that calmed me.

"May I inquire after your name, milady?" asked the officer.

"My name is Irene Montague, sir." Said I.  

"Miss Montague, if I may be so bold, you appear to be a woman of profession.  May I inquire after your profession?" asked the officer.

"You are not too bold sir, I am a recently unemployed maid," said I, which wasn't a complete lie; I've been a maid in the past.  "I am new to Port Royale and have already lost my employment."

"That is most regrettable Miss Montague." Said the officer.  "If you are interested, a position for a maid has come available in my house."

"I am most interested sir," said I.  "But I am afraid I do not know which house to apply to, as I am without your name."

"Oh, my name is..."

At that moment we were interrupted by another officer, a Lievtenant to be exact.  He had apparently fetched another overcoat for the officer that I was currently conversing with.  But how he addressed this officer startled me in a way that I never want to be startled again.  I nearly screamed with shock.

"Commodore Norrington," said the Lievtenant.  "I have your overcoat."

"Thank you Lievtenant Gillette." Said the officer.

Commodore, _Commodore Norrington.  This officer standing before me, conversing with _me_ was none other than Commodore Norrington.  Commodore Norrington, _the_ Pirate Hunter himself.  He was single-handedly responsible for making pirates an almost extinct lot.  The Commodore had just aided me in committing a crime!  And he had just offered a place of employment to the most feared She-Pirate in the Spanish Main.  How could I, in good conscience, let an opportunity to work in the Commodore's household pass me by?  Answer, I couldn't._

"Sorry, Miss Montague for this interruption.  This is Lievtenant Gillette, my second in command," said the Commodore.  "Lievtenant Gillette, this is Miss Montague."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance Miss Montague."  Said the Lievtenant.  I was still in a quiet shock that I had the two most hated men, to pirates that is, within killing reach when the Lievtenant took my hand in his and gently kissed it.  He too was a perfect gentleman.

"I assure you Lievtenant, the pleasure is all mine."  Said I.  I flashed him an almost mischievous smile.  Thoughts were running through my mind so fast that I could barely think.  I had a bunch of '_Kill them, kill them now.  Go down in history as the pirate that killed the Pirate Hunters' thoughts swimming around in my head.  But I'm not that stupid.  If I did try to kill them, I'd be killed as well._

"Well Commodore Norrington, Miss Montague, I must return to the fort." Said Lievtenant Gillette.  He causally stalked away in the direction of the fort.  He obviously wasn't in any kind of a rush.

"As I was saying before Gillette appeared, I am Commodore James Norrington." Said the Commodore.

Oh-ho-ho-hooooooo, I wanted to shout to everyone who I really was and laugh hysterically at the same time.  But that would have meant a one-way trip to the gallows.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet you Commodore Norrington."  I said.  I was going to enjoy every minute of this chance meeting.

"Finally?" asked the Commodore.  

"You are the Pirate Hunter, are you not?" I asked.  "I've heard all about your exploits with pirates."

"I am indeed the Pirate Hunter Miss Montague," said the Commodore.  "It has been my life's work to eliminate piracy and all those individuals that insist on sailing under a pirate flag."

Self-restraint was the key action here.  I knew that if he knew my true identity he would not hesitate to see me hang.  And I had to remember that Irene Montague was just a humble maid; Iron Maggie Jericho was the pirate.

Our conversation continued on with the formalities expected of society as we walked toward his house.  We passed the fort, which sent cold shivers down my spine to think of how many good pirates had lost their lives there, on our way to the Commodore's House.  His house was more of a small mansion than a house.  It was at least three stories tall, had a brown exterior, cobblestone driveway, and an dark iron gate.  I stopped once we were in complete sight of the mansion.  I had never been hired to clean such a large residence.  

Commodore Norrington noticed my sudden stop and smiled at the look of shock on my face.  His smile was rather quite pleasant and I thought to myself that he should smile more.  He reassured me that I would not be the only maid cleaning his house.  As we neared the front door he told me that he had four maids, a butler, a cook, and several harness men for the carriages currently employed.  And now, unbeknownst to him, a She-Pirate too!

We were greeted by his butler, a man called Vendalham, and the Commodore led me to the drawing room, where two of the maids were bustling around dusting.  The two maids ceased cleaning when they saw their master enter the room.  They introduced themselves as Lillian and Maria.  They seemed pleasant, but I was unable to spend any time in their company as the Commodore had to return to the fort and so left me in the charge of Vendalham.

Vendalham was a kind elderly chap that enjoyed a good laugh.  He showed me all the important rooms before handing me over to the head maid, Steele.  Miss Steele, yes unmarried (what a shock!), was a short, stocky man of a woman with a stern disposition.  She was very strict and viewed me as nothing but trouble.  I didn't even need to say anything to know that I was on her list.  

"Despite your common features and attributes, I fear your youth will distract the Commodore."  Said Steele to me.

Out of the real fear that _I_ might 'distract' the Commodore, she placed me in the Scullery of all places!  She believed it to be the one place I would not be able to 'distract' the Commodore.  Did I even need to say that he is a Commodore and I am a She-Pirate?  Of course I couldn't say that less I wanted to hang at the gallows.

My accommodations were more welcoming than the Inn I had stayed in the previous night, but that wasn't saying much.  I was to sleep in the attic, a large drafty area with a few sparse windows.  The previous occupant had cordoned off a corner of the room where the bed was.  This corner, unlike the rest of the attic, was dust free and had a hinged window.  Aside from my bed, nightstand, burrow, and few a boxes, there really wasn't anything of great importance in the attic.  This cold room was to be my home for the next few weeks and I had to adjust to the life of a simple servant.

So Iron Maggie Jericho, the proclaimed Sea Witch of the Spanish Main, became a Scullery maid for the Pirate Hunter himself, Commodore James Norrington.

**Author's Note:  **If you are familiar with Broadsides by CommodoresLady, then you are already familiar with the Lievtenant spelling.  For those of you that are not, Lievtenant is the old spelling of Lieutenant.  I have borrowed this spelling from CommodoresLady as it is appropriate to the time period.     


	3. Iron Maggie's Herstory

Second Chances~ Iron Maggie's Herstory 

The following week after my immediate employment in the Commodore's House passed with many painful incidents.  It turns out that I was prone to have disagreements with the scalding tub in the Scullery.  The tub was filled with scalding hot water and was used to scald clothing and various other materials in the house.  As one might imagine, this scalding tub was very dangerous and I had no patience to do the Scullery work.  The Scullery was always hot and incredibly moist.  The air in there was too thick to breathe at times.  

I was determined to be removed from the Scullery, but removed in such a way that would not result in my termination.  So one afternoon while I was melting in the Scullery, I carefully removed one of the rags I was boiling from the tub and quickly placed it on my left forearm.  The pain from the hot rag searing through my flesh was excruciating.  I bit down on my lip to keep myself from screaming prematurely.  After a minute of this self-inflicted burning, I threw the rag back into the tub and then let out a pain-filled scream.

It didn't take long for Miss Steele and Lillian to find me.  To add to my dramatic performance I fell to the ground after screaming.  The two maids found me lying on the hot floor clutching my left arm and crying.  Lillian helped me to stand and escorted me out of the Scullery and into the hall where Miss Steele examined my red arm.

"How did this happen?" barked Miss Steele.

"Some of the hot rags fell on my arm when I was removing them from the tub."  I said in a whimpery tone.  

"You silly girl." Smirked Miss Steele.  "Lillian, take Miss Montague to the drawing room, there you will find Mr. Vendalham."

"Yes Miss Steele." Replied Lillian as she led me into the drawing room like an obedient dog.

Vendalham was checking the room for dust when Lillian and I entered the drawing room.  Our entrance was shortly followed by Miss Steele.  Vendalham gazed around at all of our faces before setting his gaze on me.  

"What is the matter?"  He asked. 

"This stupid girl has gone and burnt herself in the Scullery."  Replied Miss Steele.

"Is that a fact?" asked Vendalham sarcastically.  "Come here child and let me see your burn."

I went to him, as a child would to a parent, with my left arm outstretched so that he could clearly see my injury.  He looked at my burnt arm for what seemed like an eternity before saying the words that would liberate me from the Scullery hell.

"This doesn't look too bad.  I believe it will heal without leaving any noticeable scars."  Said Vendalham.

"I did not bring her here so you could evaluate her injury."  Said Miss Steele.  "I want to know what should be done with her.  She is a careless wreck!"

"Isn't it obvious?  She shall be moved out of the Scullery."  Said Vendalham.

"If she is not to work in the Scullery, then where is she to work?"  asked Miss Steele, who was not at all happy with Vendalham at the moment.

"She can clean like everyone else here," said Vendalham.  "Can you make tea child?"

"Yes sir."  I said.

"Very good.  You will clean like the rest of us and make the Commodore's tea."  Said Vendalham.

Miss Steele let out a defeated grunt, as she was obviously hoping I would be terminated by Vendalham, before she stormed out of the drawing room.  Lillian suppressed a laugh and smiled lightly before she too took her leave.  Vendalham advised me to return to my room to rest for the day.  I was more than happy to oblige him.

I retreated to my room to tend to my arm.  It was a small sacrifice to pay to escape the Scullery, but it was well worth it.  Now I would be cleaning like the other maids and _I _would be making the Commodore's tea.  Tea making was perhaps the only domestic skill that I excelled at. 

I kept my arm wrapped in cool rags when I was cleaning, which occupied a great deal of my time.  The highlight of my days came an hour before tea time.  I would work on the tea for an hour prior to serving time.  Using the tea as an excuse to get out of cleaning was wonderful and I didn't waste it.  

The Commodore enjoyed my tea and I actually enjoyed serving him.  I never would have dared to think that one day I would enjoy serving the Pirate Hunter, but he was very kind and always a gentleman with his servants.  

If only I would have spent more time trying to get away from Port Royale and less time thinking about the Commodore; I might have been able to poison his tea and get away before anyone figured out it was me.  But I can honestly say that the thought of poisoning Commodore Norrington did not linger in my mind for that long as my feelings for him grew stronger each day.

I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I definitely had feelings for the good Commodore, and these feelings were anything but platonic.  I would seize every opportunity to scold myself for having such feelings for an officer of the Royal Navy.  I even tried beating the feelings out of me, but that didn't work.  

I "tripped" and fell down the first floor stairway and that didn't do anything except bruise me up royally.  I then "forced" a few books to fall off of their shelf and hit me in the head when I was dusting the library, but all I wound up with was a massive headache and more bruising.  I did, however, succeed at convincing Miss Steele that I was out to annoy her.  

My little trying-to-get-rid-of-my-feelings-for-the-Commodore incidents were really bothering her.  Out of desperation, she locked me in the attic for a whole day because her nerves could no longer stand my presence.  After that she would send me to the market to do the shopping just to keep out of the house.  I thought this was a good compromise because it kept me away from the Commodore and it gave me an opportunity to catch the latest pirate rumors and town gossip.

During my little outings to the market I would hear rumors about the latest pirate raids and so on, but nothing about the _Rose_ or her crew.  On my third or fourth outing, however, I did hear two merchants speaking of a ship that had run aground off the coast of Port Royale.  My heart sank to hear such horrible tidings.  Later I heard rumors that the Bloodless Band had been pretty quiet as of late.  

It didn't take me long to put two and two together.  The _Rose_ was the ship that had run aground and the Band had grown quiet because they were on board her during that storm that I had escaped from.  All my hopes of getting back to Tortuga were vanquished by this horrible news.  My family was lost and now I truly was alone.

I told Vendalham that I was not feeling well and retreated to my room to dwell on the past; my past.  I had been with the Bloodless Band for nigh eleven years.  I had never wanted to become a pirate, but it was my only choice.  

My father, Henry Montague, was a poor officer in His Majesty's Royal Navy that happened to have fallen for the rich debutante socialite Magdalena Hastings, my mother.  They were married against her family's wishes and so banished to the Caribbean where my father accepted a commission in the Royal Fleet stationed in Nassau.  There my father fell ill to malaria and died, leaving my mother with child.  Magdalena bore the child, me, with hatred and contempt.  

The death of her beloved husband, who had shown real talent in the Navy, left her bitter and mad.  I was to become the focus of her rage.  She viewed herself a socialite that had been cheated by fate.  So she vented on me, her only family.  She never hesitated to tell me how awful I was and how horrible I made her life.  She flat out refused to teach me how to be a lady, claiming that I was unworthy of such refinement.  Little did she know that I learned by watching her movements carefully.  

I would hide in my room to avoid sound lashings and her verbal abuse.  Each day that I awoke, breathing, and in good health vexed her to no end.  She would've had me sold into slavery if not for the fact that she needed me to help manage the house and do her chores. 

What really bothered her was the fact that I was a spitting image of my father.  She would tell me that I did not possess any feminine features and no respectable man would ever take an interest in me.  That didn't particularly insult me as I preferred knowing that I resembled my father and not my mother.  

At the age of fourteen I decided that the only way to get away from that mad woman was to run away to Port Royale, as Tortuga was too wild for such a young girl.  I finally went for it when I was fifteen.  I would sit in my room, which afforded a great view of the harbor, and stare out at the marina, dreaming that my knight on a white horse would come off of a ship and whisk me away to true happiness.  The day after my fifteenth birthday was the day my knight came to Nassau, the _H.M.S. Knight.  That ship had the whitest sails I had ever seen; they gleamed in the warm sunlight and beckoned to me._

That night I climbed out of my window and ran as fast as I could to the wharf where my knight was silently waiting for me.  Under the cover of darkness I was able to sneak on board that brig.  I was so invisible that none of the officers noticed me, which was good.  The _H.M.S. Knight set sail for Port Royale the next morning with me, a stowaway, in the hold.  I left my mother's name of Hastings in Nassau; from that day on I was Irene Montague.  _

My voyage wasn't nice in any means; I had to eat some portions of the rations so I didn't draw any attention to myself.  I was in the dark the entire time and the smell was horrid.  But I braved it all for the promise of a new, better life in Port Royale.

Five days, I think, into the voyage the _Knight_ came under attack by another ship.  Little did I know down in the hold that the enemy ship was none other than the _Rose of Tortuga_ and was crewed by the Bloodless Band of Pirates.  The _Knight_ bravely fought for some time before being outgunned by the _Rose_.  Pirates swarmed the _Knight like locusts and they found me in the darkness of the hold.  _

I was brought out and my presence was made known to the remaining crew of the _Knight.    I was then taken to the __Rose where I met the Pirates' captain, Grimwood, a stern man who had a kind heart.  He gave me two choices (neither of which allowed me to remain on the __Knight and continue on to Port Royale): join his band freely and become a pirate and member of his crew or, be given to his crew to do with me as they pleased and then be sold into either slavery or prostitution in Tortuga.  _

I chose to become a pirate, despite the fact that I loathed pirates at the time.  Captain Grimwood educated me in the ways of piracy.  He taught me to duel and to use a pistol.  He instilled in me the values and codes of piracy, the sweet trade.  Under the instruction of the crew I learned the mechanics of ships, navigation, and defense.  In two years time I was plundering with the rest of the crew.  

Captain Grimwood transformed me from the shy, demure child that I was into the bold, audacious woman that I am now.  My real test of skill came when I was eighteen years of age (as I said in the beginning).  I bested every man foolish enough to challenge me in a duel.  I bested the Captain with his own cutlass.  That act garnered me my official title of 'She-Pirate.'  

It didn't take long for the news of a She-Pirate to spread in Tortuga and throughout the Spanish Main.  I dropped my christened name of Irene and decided to dishonor my mother by adopting her name, Magdalena.  I took the name of Jericho in honor of my father's father.  So I became the She-Pirate Magdalena Jericho.  

Captain Grimwood said that I had a will as strong as iron, so I added that to my name and soon people were talking about Iron Magdalena Jericho and her piratical exploits.  When I was twenty-one sailors and merchantmen began singing songs about the infamous Iron Maggie and the _Rose.  _

I sailed with the _Rose_ and shared in the plundering and pillaging of other ships and small coastal towns.  I was a pirate and I embraced every aspect of pirate life.  I even grew to like storms at sea, they kept us all humble.

This life of a servant was nothing like that of a pirate.  I infinitely preferred life at sea; I was not a landlubber.  Oh how I longed to be back with my Brethren on the _Rose_.  Society here in Port Royale was more agreeable then that of Tortuga, but a polished society lacks true character in my opinion.  

It was well past midnight when I ventured out of my room.  I needed to quench my thirst as I was unable to keep it at bay any longer.  I moved as quietly as I could, attempting to mimic the stealth of a cat.  I went to the Scullery to get a cup of hot water and then fetched some tea from the kitchen.  I settled myself in a couch next to the fire place in the drawing room.  

I was watching the fire slowly die out when I heard someone in the hall way.  My curiosity was satisfied in no time when the stranger in the hall came into the drawing room and was revealed to be Commodore Norrington.  He was out of his usual uniform and dressed very informally.  

He didn't notice me at first, but when he did he stood completely still.  He was obviously not expecting on encountering anyone so late at night.  

"I did not think anyone was still awake."  Said the Commodore lightly.

"I'm sorry sir.  Do you wish me away?"  I asked, equally surprised at not being the only person awake.

"No, no.  You do not need to be sorry.  I should have informed you that my work at the fort keeps me awake."

"Surely it is worth it, the work you do."  

"There are times that I question that."

"Your work is important to those that you protect, sir."

"Perhaps.  May I ask what keeps you awake at this hour?"

"A troubled mind, sir."

"May I ask what troubles thee?"

"I do not wish to burden you, sir."

"I have many burdens Miss Montague, one more will not upset my balance."

"I heard that a ship run aground during the last storm.  Is it true?"

"A ship did run aground, yes."

"Were there any survivors?"

"Why the sudden interest in this particular ship Miss Montague?"

"No ship should be taken by a storm, sir."

"That is all too true Miss Montague.  But I'm afraid that this happens all too often."

"Do you know the name of the ship that has run aground?"

"As of yet, no.  It was completely destroyed in the storm.  The piece of hull that bears its name has not washed up."

"Oh."

Here a short time was filled with that unpleasant awkward silence that kills so many conversations.  My mind was now toying with the thought that maybe the run aground ship was not my _Rose.  That night had been so dark that just maybe another ship was sailing nigh our course and it had the terrible misfortune to run aground.  Maybe my family was still alive; maybe they found their way to Tortuga.  Maybe they believed that _I_ was the one dead…_

"Mr. Vendalham informed me of your accident in the Scullery.  Are you alright?"

"I wasn't as careful as I should have been.  The pain is all-but-gone.  I am quite fine now sir."

"I am glad to hear that.  I did not employ you to be killed in my house."

"And I did not accept this job to be killed in your house sir."

"Good.  If you will excuse me Miss Montague, I have an early day tomorrow.  I believe I shall try to sleep now."

"Very well sir.  Good night."

"Good night Miss Montague."

He slowly rose from where he had been seated and left the drawing room.  The fire in the fireplace had burnt itself down to smoldering embers during our conversation.  Instead of dwelling on my Brethren and lost ship, I was now thinking of nothing but Commodore Norrington.  He was tall, dark, incredibly handsome, strong, brave, and feared little in life.  He was almost perfect, if only he could change his opinion on piracy. 

I dragged myself up to the attic after the Commodore's room had grown silent.  I could hear that he tossed and turned for a good hour before settling into sleep.  Poor man, I felt sorry for him.  He was just thirty years of age, successful, yet was unclaimed by any woman.  A good man like him should be married and have four children already in my opinion.  

I settled myself into my own bed in the drafty attic while pondering about Commodore Norrington.  He had a story and I wanted to hear it.

**Author's Note:**  I apologize for taking so long in updating.  I started this piece during the summer and had hoped to have it done by now, but life exceeds at throwing me a lot of curve balls.  Bear with me, I'm attending college full time and working part time.  But I shan't neglect this fic for so long again.  Big thanks go to Rusalka for getting me back on track.  I had no idea I was dragging my feet for this long.  Thanks.  If you feel that I'm taking to long don't be afraid to tell me that I should hurry.  I need people to tell me I'm taking too long.  So how about this: If I take more than three weeks on a chapter, you all start emailing me or something letting me know that I'm taking too long.  Okay, this note is longer than I anticipated.  I'll just say two more things 1) I borrowed the name Miss Steele from Jane Austen's "Sense and Sensibility"(in case you didn't know) and 2) I reserved my copy of "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl" on DVD yesterday!  

Okay, I'll start on chapter four ASAP.  Oh, if you haven't read "Freedom is What I Want Jack" by Twilight Whisper, you're missing out.  The crossover is coming up fast and I want all my readers to be in this loop.  So read it!   


	4. Maggie and the Sparrow

Second Chances~ Maggie and the Sparrow

Miss Steele made sure I was out to market before the Commodore was done with breakfast nearly everyday.  I would wake up hours before, get dressed, make some tea, and then busy myself with cleaning while waiting for the Commodore to awake.  I would then attend to him and then take my leave of everyone as I left to the market.  Since I arrived at ungodly hours, I always got the freshest fruits and vegetables that the vendors had.  I wouldn't have minded being at the market so early, but the real scummy gossip about pirates and various other criminals never starts before late afternoon.  At this insanely early hour of the morning all the vendors wanted to discuss were their families or their crops or the coming economic instability of Port Royale.  No vendor would even hear of the word "pirate" so early into a new day.

I would buy different spices and herbs with my own money to make new and exciting teas for the Commodore.  I daresay he loves his Earl Grey, but the man cannot live on Earl Grey alone.  With constant encouragement from me he learned to broaden his tea horizons and has acquired quite a taste for Chamomile tea.  He would insist his Chamomile tea be served before he retired for the evening to his private chambers.  He always slept easier while under the Chamomile's relaxing effects.  

Chamomile was one of the rarer teas to be found in Port Royale, so I would clean out all of the vendors that confessed to selling the herb.  Because I was at the market at strange hours and stayed until I absolutely had to leave, many of the vendors came to know me by my name, Irene.  Some of the vendors became partial to my charm and overall sweet disposition.  These vendors gave me deals on the produce I purchased.  These were the vendors that became my network of information.  Through these vendors I stayed connected to the world outside of Port Royale and knew of the comings and goings of local pirates.  I came to love Miss Steele's fervor for seeing me out of the house at such early hours.  She was nothing but devoted to this task.  

It was on one of many early mornings at market that I stumbled upon a most intriguing character from my piratical past.  I was making my way through all the lovely vendors and their carts, collecting what was needed by the Commodore's house staff, when a peculiar scent reached my nose.  It was the smell of dead fish, sea water, moldy wood, rum, and an unwashed body.  It was the smell of a pirate.  

I followed this criminal scent through the markets, around corners and through alleys.  Finally, at the very end of the market—nigh three streets away—I was able to find the pirate to whom this scent belonged.  To the unaccustomed eye, this pirate might be overlooked, but not to me.  This man, standing not twenty feet from me, was wearing clothes that did not exactly compliment each other.  He was trying to blend in, but failing horribly in my opinion.  I moved in his direction, determined to know this man's identity.  Upon closer inspection, his dark matted hair was kept in a low crude pony tail with a brown tri-corner hat over his head.  He wore typical seamen's boots, dark brown suede.  His pants were slightly torn, no doubt from years at sea working onboard ship.  His loose billowy shirt was no longer white; it was a light yellow from many years in the sun.  Perhaps the only new article of clothing on this man was his overcoat.  It was black and almost gleamed in the early morning sunlight.  It was very crisp looking as it flowed out from his knees.  This overcoat gave his figure more definition; it also gave his true occupation away as far as I was concerned.  

The man strutted around between the different vendors, slyly stealing what unprotected coin purses he could.  The overcoat had probably been filched with the same grace and ease.  As I watched this man with increasing curiosity, I made sure that I was not directly downwind from him.  While I found it comforting to have at last found a fellow pirate, I did not find his musk appealing.  I watched as he strutted, swaggered really, around; this man had not been long on land.  And he was doing nothing to adjust to being on land.  Obviously not a landlubber.  

A sense of familiarity with this mysterious pirate swept over me.  This pirate was known to me.  The tri-corner hat, the un-kept hair, the sea swagger, the pungent aroma!  This pirate was none other than Captain Jack Sparrow.

I moved closer to him with the urge to giggle.  I knew his identity, but he was still unaware of me.  He moved away from the vendors and into the middle of the street, heading away from the market.  I refused to pass up an opportunity to speak with the infamous pirate Captain, so I too left the market.  He swaggered his way down to the harbor, where I seized my chance to speak with him.

He was humming an all too familiar song, so I decided to add my voice to the melody.

_Yo__ ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me_

_We pillage, we plunder, we rifle and loot_

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho_

_We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot_

_Drink up me hearties, yo ho_

When he heard someone singing the words to the song he was humming, he immediately swung around on his heel, nearly falling over with such fervor.  He stood in front of me, eyeing me quizzically.  We sized each other up and down, recognizing a fellow pirate.  Captain Jack took one step away from me before continuing on with his song.  

_Yo__ ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me_

_We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack  
Drink up me hearties, yo ho  
Maraud and embezzle and even high-jack  
Drink up me hearties yo ho___

_Yo__ ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me___

_We kindle and char, inflame and ignite  
Drink up me hearties, yo ho  
We burn up the city, we're really a fright  
Drink up me hearties, yo ho___

_We're rascals, scoundrels, villains, and knaves  
Drink up me hearties, yo ho  
We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs  
Drink up me hearties, yo ho___

_Yo__ ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me_

The last stanza, Jack belted out with all his vocal ability.  We yelled out the last lines of his song as we made our way to the last dock.

_We're beggars and blighters and ne'er do-well cads  
Drink up me hearties, yo ho  
Aye, but we're loved by our mommies and dads  
Drink up me hearties, yo ho___

"Really bad eggs!"  Captain Jack yelled out again as our rousing song came to a finish.  "Well, strumpet, not many a lady are acquainted with the delights of pirate songs."

"Aye, ye be correct.  A lady I am not, at least not a lady of good breeding." Said I to Captain Jack, at which he laughed.

"Iron Maggie, I presume?"

"Aye, Captain Jack Sparrow."

"Bloody good!" said Jack as he pulled me into a big embrace.

"Oy, Jack!  I've become acclimated to cleaner smelling men than thou.  Unhand me!"

Jack smiled as he let go of me.  He then redirected our walk to the nearest pub.  This I expected as Jack lived on rum.  We arrived at a shabby little pub that was only frequented by poor sailors and small time pirates looking to avoid unwanted attention.  Now, rum is not my drink of choice, but as I was in Jack's company, I graciously accepted his offer of rum.

Jack led me to a dark corner of the pub, it was lit by a single candle.  The air was thick with tobacco smoke and smoke of other dried plants.  We sat in our corner talking louder than usual, but the pub was very deep with voices as well as smoke.  The voices were loud and drunk, and grew continually louder with each drink.  

"Oh goodness Jack, please tell me you haven't been mutinied again."

"No, no, no.  I've been looking for ye.  And of all places I find ye here."

"Me?  You've been looking for me?"

"Aye.  The Brethren is quite lost without ye.  They're offering a nice bit o'booty for yer return."

"Then they are alive.  I was beginning to despair."

"No worries love.  It was they who were beginning to despair."

"Jack, where is your ship anchored?"

"I don't really know, the _Pearl__ is somewhere on the other side of Jamaica."_

"You're a fool Jack."

"Tell me something I don't know love."

"When does the _Pearl__ set sail for Tortuga?"_

"Well, we came looking for you, and now you've been found.  I expect we'll depart as soon as you are ready."

"Ah, Jack, I can't return to Tortuga yet."

"Excuse me?  Are you completely mad?"

"No, my situation is…er…complicated now."

"Complications do not suite you Maggie."

"Trust me, I take no sane enjoyment from this complication."

"And pray tell me, what is this complication?"

"That's complicated Jack."

"Yes, love, I caught that allusion."

Jack was prying where I didn't want him prying.  But Jack is not a man to be easily dissuaded from "gossip."  And I most definitely did not want to divulge my secret love for Commodore Norrington lest I wanted to be killed by my fellow pirates.  Jack knew that he had me to the point of breaking, damn him!

"Oy!  You've found yerself a man!"

"Why Jack, I didn't know you could be so astute."

"I am right, am I not?"

"I shall give you the pleasure of knowing that it is indeed a man."

"Who is he?  Do I know him?"

"He is a proper gentleman.  I do not know if you can claim an acquaintance with him."

"Ah, in other words, he's a naval man?"

"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't."

"Yes, definitely a man of the Navy."

"You don't know that!"

"I believe only a man familiar with a ship could ever woo you, Iron Maggie."

"Perhaps."

Jack could read people more than he ever let on.  But I'm sure he imagined me falling for some lonely officer in His Majesty's Navy, not the Commodore himself.  This little pub-side conversation was turning uncomfortable.  My inner conflict was building: should I actually admit to Captain Jack Sparrow that I had romantic feelings that were leaning towards love for Commodore James Norrington, the one man responsible for making piracy an almost extinct occupation.  Jack was baiting me, but I was also allowing myself to be baited.  

"Well, I hope he's worth it; giving up your home and everything familiar to you."

"Jack, I gave up all familiarity with my home and family ages ago, savvy?"

"Tread carefully, love, if that bloody Commodore discovers you, he'll see to it that you're put on display for all the Caribbean to see.  And it won't be flattering Maggie."

"This I know Jack.  Go back to Tortuga and tell the Band that I am well and that I will return to them in time."

"And what of this man?"

"That is my concern and my concern only."

"Very well."

We finished the last drops of our drinks before leaving the incredibly warm pub.  It was later than I thought it was so I had to cut our visit short.  Jack took this inconvenience in stride.  He left me at the docks, walking towards the outskirts of the city.  I watched his silhouette swagger out of sight before I turned to my own destination.  

I was in no rush to return to Miss Steele, she would undoubtedly see to it that I received at least 10 sound lashings.  It was well past the noon hour when I finally made my way home and just as I had anticipated Miss Steele was waiting for my arrival.  She scolded me until I thought she had completely exhausted her vocabulary and then she began to threaten me with unemployment and future lashings.  This man of a woman did not strike fear into any bone of my body, but I did take her seriously.  She had power in Norrington's House, and she wasn't afraid to use that power.  

She would have to be dealt with relatively soon if I wanted to keep my position next to Commodore Norrington.  I would have to put that old bat in her place for my own sake.  And I would make sure that this lesson would be one that she would not soon forget.

**Author's Note:  **I am SO sorry for this being SO late!  I could blame this on school, the holidays, and family; but to be perfectly honest I'm just lazy.  That's it in a nutshell.  I apologize for this fault of mine (it is one of many) but I am a born procrastinator.  Please believe me when I say that I am trying to improve….to little effect.  I've asked before that if any of you feel I am taking to long on updating to email me and express this, and I am sticking with this plan because it works (sorta).  A big thanks go out to **Rusulka**** for keeping on track.  You rock!!**

Uh, my friend and fellow ff.n author, Twilight Whisper, is leaving in a few days for boot camp.  L  So I'm very put out by that.  We motivate each other in our fics, and now I won't have her encouragement or motivation….*cries*  

Alrighty, I must get going on Chapter 5.  Twilight Whisper's OC will be making her cameo in Chapter 5!  

Please email me if I'm dragging my heals!  I beg of you all, please email me or even IM me!  I'm not lying when I say I'm incredibly lazy.  This is for my own good and I promise that I won't get annoyed as I LOVE getting emails!


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